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sukirichi · 3 years

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reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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writingchalamet · 3 years

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I’m happy for you … 2

Hey guyyyss! It’s been nearly 2 years since I have posted anything, I’m so sorry firstly I would like to say I hope everyone has been managing okay through this pandemic, I have been working throughout the whole thing so have had no time to do anything, but I now have 3 months off due to an illness so I’m hoping that means more time for writing, while I’m back I want everyone to know that this is still an open space for ideas and if anyone needs to talk please feel free to message me! Lots of love! Oh and by the way I am completely winging this one shot I’m making it up as I go along so let’s hope it turns out ok!

It had been seven months since Timothée had left the apartment. The first month you spent mostly sobbing into his pillow at night, trying to encase your self in whatever scent was reminiscent on it. You would find things around the house of his that he had left behind, like his watch and an old jumper that he would always moan at you for stealing, lying crumpled up at the bottom of the wardrobe. He had left his razor and shaving foam in the bathroom cabinet and you hadn’t the heart to throw them away. All things that were replaceable for him but for you they held a certain sentiment.

You used to love sitting on the edge of the bath brushing your teeth as he shaved trying to hold a conversation while your mouth foamed up, which often lead to the pair of you in fits of laughter. So you held onto the razor for safe keeping. Another month past and your friends suggest it’s time for you to get out of the house, other than for work, though you had admittedly found it immensely hard to leave even for that, for walking the streets of New York gave you a new found fear of bumping into him and…her.

You had seen them on his social media before removing yourself from the sites, they seemed happy and in love and it killed you, to think that the person you were in love with was in love with someone else, and you don’t know how long for. Your tipping edge with social media was a lovely picture of the pair sharing a kiss for her birthday post, which was close to yours. It felt like a knife had been plunged through your chest. On one side you were happy to see him so full of life, something he had been missing the last few moths of your relationship but the other half just wished things could have worked out. You hated the fear of opening your phone to find another picture of them, but at the same time hated the idea of blocking him out of your life, hence your social media blackout.

More months past and eventually things started to feel normal again, you’d plucked up the courage to take down the photos of him surrounding the walls of the apartment and get rid of the rest of his belongings. You’d even decided to redecorate the apartment to make it feel more you, and less him. Strolling down the aisles of a hardware store with your friend Oscar you look through what seems to be a thousand shades of green before landing on the perfect one.

“Now y/n are you sure you don’t like breakfast room green?” Oscar gives you stern but playful look, you can tell he is getting tired of looking at paint cans but you are just glad to have some company. “No, I definitely think it’s forest green for me thanks” you smirk and take the paint can from his hands and place it back on the shelf. “What else is on the list?” Oscar asks hesitantly, you’d already been shopping for an hour and we’re too ready to get back home. “Nothing, this was the last thing so let’s go”

You had found tranquillity in your new environment and in being alone, but still didn’t have the confidence of going out, admittedly there were times you forgot Timothée existed, your friends refused to bring him up and you never went on your phone anymore to see anyone mention him. But seven moths down the line you still haven’t let loose and lived your life since he’s been gone.

“C’mon y/n you have to come, it’s Christmas Eve, you can’t sit in alone all night, especially when you’re not seeing your family tomorrow, for one night just please c’mon!” Your closest friend Erica pleaded to you over the phone, there was a Christmas party happening in the east village and for weeks now you had been putting off the invite, always coming up with some excuse or the other but she knew you better than anyone and she knew the only reason you didn’t want to go was because of Timothée. “Y/n, I’m gonna keep begging until you say yes, please please please please please plea-“ “okay fine I’ll go, just please shut up, and if we bump into him, I’m leaving okay!” You protested eyes scrunching, you held your phone away from your head as you heard Erica screech from the other end of the line. “Yes, okay deal, but he won’t be there, in all of New York I can guarantee there will be at least a hundred parties going on tonight so don’t worry yourself, just put on something sparkly and I’ll see you in an hour!”

An hour passes and sure enough there is a short buzz from the intercom to your apartment, you walk over to the door picking up the phone checking it’s Erica, “hello?” You quiz, “yeah it’s me genius you expecting anyone else, now let me up it’s snowing and I’m freezing!” She snaps you laugh and buzz her in. Shortly after you hear her heals clicking up the stairs in the hallway, you left the door on the latch for her to walk straight in. You eyeball her appearance and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “Seriously Erica, a slip dress and a leather jacket? You’re gonna get hyperthermia where’s your coat?!” You practically shout , waltzing towards her, “what are you my mother! Now put on a red lip and let’s go!” You roll your eyes but do as she says to save yourself an argument. You put on your coat hat gloves and scarf and make your way back out the bedroom. “Jesus Christ you’re supposed to look like angel Gabriel not the Virgin Mary, why have you covered up so much!” “Because it’s winter Erica. And in case you didn’t know, you can take off clothes but you can’t recover from pneumonia when you’re dead, so I suggest you wrap up and shut up because we’re gonna be late.” Her mouth drops in shock but soon closes in the realisation that this is the first time she has seen the ‘real’ you in months, she borrows a coat and you both head out the door.

The party is already in full swing by the time you both arrive. You soon find the rest of your friends and you have to admit you have missed going out and socialising and just feeling normal again. You dance abs drink and have a good time feeling all the festivities. You admire the Christmas lights that gleam around the room and the open fire and stop for a second and think about tomorrow, how this will be your first Christmas not spent in the chalamet household, with his mums cooking, and watching him and his sister joke and feeling part of a family. It all gets too much just for one split second. You breathe “I’m just gonna go and get some air” you smile at your friends so they don’t let on that you’re not okay. They have spent too long missing out on things because of you, you don’t want them to lose another night.

You weave through the crowds of people everyone and then muttering a ‘sorry’ as you bump into someone. You finally see the patio doors insight and walk just a little bit faster, not looking at all where you’re going when you crash into someone with their hands full with at least four drinks in their hands. The cold liquid spills all down your front and you gasp at the icey liquid touching your skin. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going I-“ you would recognise that voice from anywhere, it was him.

Though as soon as his eyes met yours they dropped, as though he felt guilty about something, but what did he have to feel guilty about? You stood there for a moment like a deer in the headlights just staring at him before you bolted in the opposite direction, headed for the front door. “Y/n! Y/n come back, shit” you distantly heard your name being called but you didn’t care, you don’t know why you ran but you just knew you weren’t ready for whatever was about to happen. You reach the front door and run out into the snow, quickly realising what a terrible idea it truly was having forgotten your coat inside, luckily you still had your bag, so it would only be a short walk to a main road to hail a cab. You shivered as the freezing air pinched your skin like daggers. You silently thanked yourself for wearing boots instead of the stiletto option you were going to go for, though still tricky to walk as the heels of your boots have you little to no grip on the snow. “Y/n… y/n please wait!” You heard behind you and the front door slamming, though you had gotten quite far down this ridiculously long drive way you could still make out his figure bundling towards you. “Go away Timothée!” You yelled back towards him careful not to slip as your twist yourself back to face him. “Y/n you’re gonna freeze out here, please just come back inside” you hear him speeding up and soon after a thud followed by a grunt, you turn yourself to see him lying on his back in the snow. “Are you alright?” You yell, you don’t wait for a spoken response his nod and his sitting up is enough for you, he has gained enough distance now to be in reach of you, so you decide to turn around again and make your way to the road. You stand there for a few moments waiting for a cab to drive past before bailing one down.

When one pulls up you slide yourself in the backseat, and miss Timothée’s slick manoeuvre into the other passenger side next to you. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing!” You whisper shout at the boy beside you. “Making sure you get home okay, you still live at the apartment?” You give up protesting and nod facing the front. Timothée tells the driver the address and you sit in silent the rest of the journey. You arrive at the apartment and Timothée follows you up to the flat, you open the door and he steps inside for the first time since his departure. He takes in a deep breath and looks around the place a lot has changed since he had left, the place looked more girly, more to your taste, but In Timothée’s mind it still felt like home. He walked around the front room stopping at the picture frames that used to hold his images, he stopped and started at them and frowned for a moment, for his spot had been taken by your friends and family, and pictures of cats, you had always loved cats and the pair of you had always spoken about getting one some day.

“I like what you’ve done with the place” you let out a breath and nod your head. Your heals clicking against the hardwood floor as you shuffle your feet. “What are you doing here Timmy?” “Timmy, been a long time since you called me that” you interrupt him “you didn’t answer my question”. He sighs and looks you dead in the eye. “Amy and I broke up, a while ago actually, I wanted to call you, text you, I even stood outside the building a few times waiting to see if you’d come outside, I never saw you though. I figured you’d moved on, moved out of the apartment.”

“No I never left. In fact tonight was my first actual time out of the house since we broke up, so while you’ve been out having a good time enjoying your life. I’ve been here miserable, everyday. So I ask you again, what are you doing here?” A tear slipped from your eye as you realised he had only come he to gloat.

“I’m still in love with you y/n, that’s what I’m doing here.” He launched himself towards you his hands wrapping themselves around your arms but you protested, Shoving him away from you, you trod around to the other side of the sofa creating some space between you much like he did all those months before. “No, Timothée you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come into my home after all these months when I’m finally getting back to normal again and turn things upside down because that’s not fair! I waited for you for months, I kept your things, I kept your photos up for fuck sake I didn’t even wash the bed sheets because I didn’t want to wash away anything that had been touched by you. And you never showed up” you break into a fit of sobs finding it hard to breath being around him after so much time. He stumbles towards you naturally in his mind to comfort you, you try and push him away but he only pulls you closer.

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I don’t know why I did what I did, but all I can do know is tell you I love you, shh please calm down” he strokes the hair away from your face occasionally kissing the side of your head, he keeps cradling you out of fear you’ll slip away like he did all those months ago. You gain your steady breath back and scramble your way out of his lap, the large sequins on your dress shaking and knocking together as you stand, you wipe the tears from your face and head towards the kitchen for a glass of water, once you’ve contained yourself you stare at the boy in front of you. He looks disheveled and out of sorts but all you know is you still love him.

“I love you too, Timothée” his head raises in hope and he takes a step closer, your hand reaches out to stop him before he can get any closer to you. “But you broke my heart, and I don’t think I can trust you not to break it again” your eyes fill with tears again and you feel your heart sink in your chest even more than it did the last time. “I think you need to go, Timmy” he nods his head eyes not leaving the floor. He reaches door as he makes his way out he turns to you once more “y/n, if you have truly moved on with your life, I’m happy for you” and then the door is closed.

#timothee fanfic #fanfiction #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee #timothée imagines #timothée angst #angst #Timothée chalamet angst #timothee imagines

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

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Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes: can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope] Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] || lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus like every child you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’ and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly.

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you.

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different.

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed, arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.”

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!”

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten.

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?”

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,”

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked.

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.” you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment.

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it.

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?”

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?”

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

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@airybnb ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo x reader #saturo x y/n #jjk gojo #soulmate aus #pretty eyes

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thornedrose44 · 3 years

Note

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class.

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work.

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there.

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists.

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves.

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront.

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people.

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories.

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks. “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again.

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts.

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?”

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.”

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week.

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork.

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by.

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes.

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life.

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class.

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled.

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.”

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either.

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing.

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime.

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant.

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs.

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew.

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying.

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope.

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.”

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards.

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night).

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most.

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers.

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait.

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp prompt

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years

Note

Jean with their almost full term wife just being extremely uncomfortable, they cry a lot and are just ready for the baby to be out?

Here I go... this has been in my inbox for an embarrassing amount of time but I had this plot in mind for two years and I was waiting for this moment to be animated to be able to write and post this... Listen while you read → the sound of silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Pairing: Jean/ Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort (yes my ✨favorite✨), Jean being a sweetheart

Warnings: pregnancy, grief, mentions of labor and childbirth, crying, Post Sasha's death

The Sound of Silence

The dull, gray shade that was plastered all over the sky was accompanied by an excessive stride of frozen air that was blowing on your hair, sending stray strands of (e/c) flying all over your eyes. A few droplets fell faintly in random places over you and on the freshly trimmed grass that was swaying under your feet. There was a vast variety of tombstones that surrounds you, sternly and calculated lined up tombs extend to a tragic horizon, where your eyes couldn't seem to find an end to. A few leaves were being blown around over them, as well as fresh flower petals, ones you could recognise as you had seen numerous people leave bouquets to their deceased loved ones for all the time you'd stayed here.

Inevitably, the gravestone you were resting your back on was frozen, making your whole body shiver as you lean on it, but you chose not to pay any attention to it; you simply buried your chin between your knees and closed your eyes before letting out a sigh escape you. Your stomach tightened as your chest hitched and you instinctively brought a hand to rub over your swollen tummy. You inspected the bum by running your hand around it, rubbing on a few places near your inverted belly button, pressing slightly over the top as you felt the probing piece of flesh flick in the palm of your hand underneath your dress.

When you felt a kick, a single leg movement push against the insides of your stomach, though, you took away your hand, slamming it onto the ground as you tried to grip onto the moist soil right next to you. It was kind of a peculiar feeling and even now, nine months in you were still fully uncomfortable with it. Being pregnant wasn't something you've enjoyed; rather was more like a hazard to your very health and was reason you were relieved of your soldier duties. And you secretly cursed Jean and yourself a bit for allowing this to happen.

Who on their right mind would enjoy swollen feet and back pains, who would enjoy the crazy mood swings and the fatigue that causes you to be unable of even taking a stroll around the town? Who would ever want to feel suffoccated by how big their pregnancy belly had turned? Not you. Definitely not you, but according to your mother they were supposed to be something you'd enjoy later on.

Now, you weren't so sure.

And you were so overdue yet you weren't even sure you could even take care of your child in the mental state you were in.

Sighing hard after taking a deep inhale you dug your frail fingernails into the soil, feeling the ominous tears that the angry skies were begining to pour. Your eyes lingered on the shapeless coulds, focusing onto the dull, stripped light that could barely peak from underneath them. You felt the faint river of a tear run down your cheek at the sight and the skies responded right back at you with a loud thunderclap. It almost felt as if the skies were mourning Sasha just like you. Maybe, if you tried to convince yourself, you'd believe that it was your childhood friend that cried with you due to your departure.

Feeling your body go stiff and your face go numb from the fresh needles of the cold air that was blowing on you your scrunched your nose upwards, hoping for the action to stimulate even the tiniest blood flow to the numb tip. It didn't, and the tingling sensation of a sneeze madxhed it's way to your blood vessels, scratching methodically at all the right pressure points to force it's release. Finally and with a loud blow you felt your chest go in shock as you sneezed, your whole body joltimg up on your very spot.

Still you sniffled the little drops of moisture with the inside of your elbow, you couldn't find it in you to move or get up, you couldn't even try to find an ounce of physical strength inside your body. Sashas tombstone provided some strong comfort for you though, acting as your only comforter against the cold.

"This can't be any good for you."

A soft, large and so very warm hand came to rest upon your shoulder; delicate fingers gave you a squeeze as a bulky thumb rubbed a few circles to the end of your collarbone. You didn't even have time turn your head to see who it was, frankly because you knew.

His scent, his warmth, his touch, his whole aura practially screamed his name.

"Jean?"

"It's going to rain really hard you know." He said, planting a kiss to your temple. "wanna go back?"

"No." You sniffled dangerously.

"Okay then, I-" Jean paused before squating to your level "I guess were staying here for a bit."

"Thank you."

The soft ruffle that you felt on your hair was Jeans reply and it tousled your hair slightly, allowing the shy blond to catch a tiny sniff of your sweet scent to which he sncrunched his nose slightly and proceeded to place a kiss at the top of your hair line. Then, once again, he placed another kiss on your temple.

Fidgeting with your hand while trying to undig it out of the soil, you closed your eyes at the feeling, expecting the tiniest bits of adoration to enter your body through that kiss. Jean rested his head on your shoulder from his squatting position and you smiled a tiny bit and only in the blink of an eye, exhaling a cold huff of air to his face. A sharp pain in your chest was starting to spread, pushing back away over everything else that lay inside your body, strangling the insides of your throat.

"I miss her already."

You felt your breath chock you from the insides of your throat dangerously; a tight, looking knot was finally making its binds tighter and even more evident to the depths of your stomach as it spread to your throat.

"Me too"

"And God she was more that me excited for our baby."

As you shut your eyes, in frail attempt to mute the memories of Sasha that were coming back to your vision, a single tear rolled from the corner of your eye. With a shaking hand you managed to grip onto the side of Jean's coat; the chachi makò cotton coat rubbed against your thum as if protesting for the dirt that was being wiped on it, yet Jean didn't seem to care.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for so long when you're dysphoric about pregnancy."

"Its-its fine" You sniffled, a hitched sigh escaping the depths of your throat.

"Mmm baby, it's not, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring Sasha back with me too she'd talk to me everyday about betting on how we're going to have twins."

As another thunderclap roared in the background, Jean found it fitting to move his aching legs and shift his position to the ground. As he took a turn, he placed another kiss just next to your eye while he took your hand in between his. With a soft thud he came to rest his body next to yours and you made a slight move to allow him a little more space before his back finally came to rest to the small tomb right behind you. A hand came to wrap around your shoulders lovingly silently begging you to push your head down to your lover's shoulder to which you eagerly complied.

"I kinda think she was right, I'm too huge, I can't even breathe properly these days." Another tiny peck was placed to the top of your head as you spoke. "To be honest," You sniffled "whatever it is I want it to be out."

"I know."

"And I don't want to accept that Sasha died, I grew up with her Jean."

"I know baby." He said and placed a new kiss to your head.

"And for the love of any fucking intelligent titan I'm so swollen and I'm angry and all that could make me happy right now would be you Connie and Sasha teasing me about it."

Jean felt your back pulp on him like a jolting lighting has just fell from the sky. He heard the hard sniffle of your nose and heard the painful sob that was stuck to the back of your throat as your sentence came to an end. This, with a burning desire to let his own heart go loose came the feeling of his own eyes stinging, his own chest jolting, his fingertips gripping onto the side of your head as if they were hanging onto you for dear life.

"All I get though is this stupid tomb!" You cried and threw a clenched first backwards towards the tomb, hitting it with all your potential might as you chocked on your next words. "This stupid fucking reminder that my best friend is dead."

It was so dearly painful. Your heart hammered in your chest in protest to your refusal to deny Sasha's death, your stomach churned in a coiling fire and the big swelling bumb under your right hand rioted against your mourning. But you failed to give a care. Your best friend in the whole world was dead.

You could still remember when you decided to join the military together, you still remembered your very first friends, you still remembered how she and Connie were the ones to help you and Jean get together. You remembered the way you'd play when you were kids and how you'd spend days sewing clothes just to play like you were paying a visit to Sina in your most elegant attire. You remembered watching her fall in love with food and with whom you had thought could be the man of her life.

You remembered every single miniscule moment of your life spent with Sasha and it crushed you.

Nevertheless when Jean's long fingers came to sway over the roots of your hair and his nose nuzzled to the top of your hairline, his lips rubbing onto your soft hair, ready to press another kiss at any given time, your face softned, taking away the chocked sob you were about to let out with it. You brought your hand to your face, pulling your sleeve to cover it up and put it to your nose to wipe the runny goo off of it.

"I know, shh" The ashy blond rubbed his chin to the side of your scalp, giving you the tiniest bit of affection from it before bringing his nose back to your head to rub it on the spot again.

Then, the way that you sighed was almost silent.

Save for the whiny hiccup that escaped you.

"Please don't cry so much, I'm going to panic."

A tiny laughter inevitably escaped you. You remembered that phrase very well. When you had caught Jean crying after Marco's memorial he had came running into your arms, sobbing like a madman and you had wispered the same words while rubbing your palms soothingly over his back. That was the same night that you decided to follow him into joining the scouts, the first night of an endless personal misery.

"It's just-" You cried "I just can't, we've lost so many people and it hurts Jean. I should have been there."

"Shh no, don't think like that."

Jean was holding back tears for you. It was evident in the way that he was shaking and jolting his head from time to time. His palm was flexed in a fist, tightly resting over your shoulder as it gripped a fold in your cloack. You only breathed harder at the realisation, feeling your chest sink in a tremendous amount of pain that left you hollow. You felt another kick coming from the inside of your stomach to which you shut your eyes to, too afraid to see the outline of a hand or a foot appear under the thin linen clothe of your dress. And just like before, another heart wrenching sob escaped you.

"I didn't want to say goodbye." Jean said quietly, his voice coming as a breath that barely brushed your ear. "You didn't even get to say goodbye and that's bad of me to say, but I didnt want to see what I saw. I didn't want to say goodbye. I don't want you to suffer. I don't want to suffer either."

"Jean.."

The sniffling of your nostrils wasn't nowhere near coming to an halt, thus the back of your sleeve was the ideal solution to your distress; had you had any more little power in your body you would reach for the handkerchief in your shoulder bad. But that couldn't be the case. Not until you could feel your feet.

"(Y/n), baby... I'm sorry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you and our baby. Even if it means I have to sacrifice my life for you to be safe."

A gasp came out of your mouth quicker than you had anticipated. The hiccup that escaped you was accompanied by another burning hot tear that run down your eye, your whole spine giving in to the wave of fear that shook you, resulting in your head jolting in shock. Your hand shot to his, gripping it with force to bring it over your stomach, your fingers clinging onto his while pressing hard in between his knuckles.

"Don't say that shit, you're not dying Jean, get that thought out of your idiotic head," You inhaled through hitches "I'm going to die a pitiful death if you leave me."

"Please don't do that." Jean clenched his teeth.

"Then don't die too you idiot."

Another rush of a few raindrops started pouring, this time even more quickly that before. The grass under your feet swayed, each spiky peak bending and bouncing as the weight of the rain hit the ground. Big blotches of water were now forming on your attire, waiting your skin as they came to connect with each other, darkening the brown color of the linen skirt you were wearing. Jean wrapped his hand tighter around you, rubbing his cheek to the top of your head again with mellow force, as if trying to assure you it would be okay for you to stay there for only just a moment more.

And you begged to listen to his silent proposition.

Letting his hand rest loosely over your swollen stomach, you took a deep breath, allowing your self to flex your toes inside your shoes. Your indstep steamed as the little strap squished you so hard that you tried your best to convince yourself you weren't going to deal with a blood clot. You hated that you had come to despise your favorite pair of shoes. All you ever wished for was that then would just fit you like normal. Still, even to that thought, the little being inside you took half a leaping turn, giving another kick to the top of your stomach.

Had Sasha been here she would have told you something to help you get your mind off of it. She would have teased Jean for not being able to keep it in his pants and you would have laughed, feeling the tentuon easing off.

Still, the kick, that most women would have found one of joy, only turned your insides like clothes swept by a tide.

"I want to throw up." You announced, half looking at Jean

"Because of the kick? Or the thought of it?"

"Maybe-maybe both."

It was then that another kiss was planted in your forehead. The raw sound of lips smacking filled the air against the drenching water of the rain, giving a little antsy essence to the gesture. Jean rubbed his closed mouth against your skin with his eyes closed in his best effort to help you calm down.

"Now now," He whispered "It wouldn't be the best thing to throw up in the cemetery, would it?"

With closed eyes, you pouted and shook your head twice in response.

"Okay then, I have a proposal for you."

"What?"

"Want to go visit Marco's grave? And then get you somewhere warm? And changed?"

Your pout intensified amd you fixated your gaze at the ground with furrowed brows. The nauseating feeling in your stomach was coiling begging to obertske you, but there was something so warm about Jean's sweet tone that fought it violently, so much that you could even feel your face loosen up as you melted under his touch.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Okay then."

You shivered slightly as Jean took his arm off of you and dug it to the ground, giving himself a little prompt as he bend his knees closer to his body before stretching them to get up. Next, he leaned towards you, extending a long arm to your side, his thick, enormous palm stretching as it signaled you to place yours in it. Lifting a hand to his direction faintly you manages to place your palm into his and soon you managed to feel his fingers tighten a grip over your knuckles.

Still though, you couldn't find it in you to get up.

You stared at Jean with brows that screamed in apology, lifted skin littered with regretful lines. You had been feeling heavy lately. Everyone knew that, everyone who laid eyes on you questioned hoe you even managed to walk normally. But today you had struggled to get out of bed so much that you had even considered asking to be carried to Sasha's grave, knowing full well that you were too heavy for this to be a reality.

"You can do it."

"Give me a second, I can feel my lower stomach pulsating."

Jean eyed you with concern, his thumb quick to rub a circle over the knuckle of your pointer finger. You only gave him a mixed look next, squeezimg him just a little as you started pulling his hand. You had to get up. You couldn't stay in the rain until someone picked you up bridal style. Thus, you gave a little push. Just a teeny, tiny push to prompt yourself up and meet Jean halfway.

"Oh, oh crap."

In that moment you couldn't even think of a worse mistake that you had made in your nineteen years of life.

"What?"

You didn't want to believe it. No. It couldn't be happening now.

"Uhm, my water just broke."

"WHAT?"

"There's fluid leaking down my thigh and I'm pretty sure I didn't just pee myself. I wouldn't do that in a graveyard."

In between Jean's petrified expression and the trembling pain in your core, you somehow found yourself be eerily non panicked about the happening. As much as you wanted to scream from the pain, as much as you felt like your feet where going to give out, you were nowhere near turning pale yellow like Jean.

"Was this supposed to happen so suddenly?" Jean breathed heavily.

"Well" You cursed under your breath as you clutched over your stomach "I have been overdue for some days now and, ah fuck this is painful-"

"I'm really, really freaking out right now. What. Do. We. Do?"

"Calm down, let's go to Marco's grave."

"What? No!? Your waters literally broke. They broke, oh my god I'm going to be an actual father." Jean let out a chocked scream while running his other hand through his hair and gripping despairately on the roots.

"Jean, okay I migh-" A sharp pain went through your core "I still have a lot of time until my contraction is big enough for the baby to come out."

"This can't be safe."

"I'm telling you!"

Jean took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell, his shaking fingers steadied just a tiny bit, his trembling feet suddenly felt just a little more steady. This wasn't a time to panic, of course, he knew that far. The look you were giving him, even though it was pained, screamed that he could trust you; despite either of you having absolutely no idea about childbirth, he knew that having an anxiety attack this early into labor would only cause a worse experience for you.

Plus, he was the one who suggested they you'd visit Marco, and he wasn't about to say no to you at your current situation. With a hand bend over his hip, he prompted your own to snail through it for support. At least if you were going to do this, he'd basically walk you there. Pressing his lips together, Jean gave you an longing look, letting a deepnsigh escape the depths of his chest.

Eagerly you nodded at him, linking your arm with his. You softly dug your button lip under your upper flesh, trying your best not to bite into it as another rush of pain washed through you. Having contractions this frequent only meant that you had to rush and you knew that better than anyone else, but there was this little voice in the back of your brain that begged you to not take this moment away from Jean. With a final little stroke at Sasha's tomb and a tear running down your wet, stinging eyes before you matched away and to the direction of Marco's grave, you let yourself think you could hear her say a tiny good luck to you.

"Okay, let's go see Marco alright?" Jean said with a hint of glimmer in his eyes "For five minutes."

"Okay and then I'm going to go and have your child."

"Quite literally."

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @levisbrat25 @callmepromise @hawkssnugget @berrijam @thethyri @nobody-knows-anymore @lzrers

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein imagine #jean snk #jean aot #snk x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk season 4 #aot season 4 #angst

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requests are open ! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

#John Wick imagine #John Wick x reader #john wick oneshot #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Spark - 26

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Feels, worry, injuries, tiredness, fluff. Lack of proofing. A/N: Thanks to all of you who have wanted tags, reblogged, commented, and liked <3 I’m very happy that you’ve stuck with this story all the way to the end. Thank you!

26. Warm heart

... Konro ...

The news of [Y/N] and Beni’s return (including the woman’s condition) had spread like wildfire among the residents of Asakusa and particularly the older women had taken it upon themselves to lighten the workload of Company Seven by providing hot meals – sent over by wide-eyed grandchildren who looked too dejected for Konro to bear when he tried to say none of this was necessary because in spite of what the neighbourhood seemed to think, everything had returned to some semblance of normal within a day.

“Time for bed, girls,” Konro begins to usher Hinata and Hikage out of the kitchen.

None of them look up from the drawings they’re working on (one depicting a demonic infernal washing the floor). “No,” they agree in creepy unison, “we’re strong independent women who don’t need a man to tell us what to do.”

...what? He doesn’t have to ask where they would have heard something like that: just this morning [Y/N] had said something along those lines to Benimaru when he tried to order her back to her sick bed. If only I’d known better. Konro had chuckled, telling his old friend to give up on the protectiveness, for now at least.

Staring down at the twins, the scarred man crosses his arm calmly. “Try again.”

Seconds later, papers float in the air as Hinata and Hikage have changed their minds and are sprinting off to get ready for bed.

... Reader ...

Ow. Ooow. Eeek. Ow. Ouch.

Limping past Benimaru’s office, you’re thankful the door is closed as you don’t need him to see how you’re gritting your teeth in pain. Maybe he had a point this morning...ow.

He had caught you leaving your room – your destination being the kitchen where Konro was busy serving breakfast for everyone present at the Special Fire Force Company Seven’s headquarters – and promptly ordered your back to bed, completely ignorant of the fact that you’d spent a full day there already and you were bored out of your mind. Opinions had been...exchanged before he let you do what you wanted for the rest of the day.

And now I’m paying the price. Every body part is screaming in protest at the mere idea of moving, littered with bruises and swells, and you’re fairly sure you’ve pulled a few of the stitches on your thigh. Just a bit more. Down the hall and around the corner, then you can collapse onto the futon and get the weight off your swollen ankle.

“Have I ever told you, you’re stubborn?” Beni’s bored voice stops any progress.

Fuck. “Once or twice,” you grit out, refusing to turn to see him standing there, probably arms crossed and leaning against the doorpost, “I take it as a compliment.”

“Figures.” There’s a huff and then you can feel him right behind you. “[Y/N]...” lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “please...you don’t have to do everything alone and I know how strong you are. Let me he-...let me be of use.”

Oh, it’s tempting. You remember parts of the trip back from the Nether and how it had felt to be pressed against his warm body, nuzzling against the crook of his neck to inhale the mixed scents of coals, cedar, and light sweat. It had made it bearable whenever unconsciousness shifted and you were brought back to the pain.

Now Benimaru’s arms snake around your waist and under your knees and you realize you’ve said yes without meaning to, allowing him to lift and hold you against him once more. He tries to move carefully, reducing the jostle as much as he can even as he lays you down.

“[Y/N]...the wound...” The frown on his face could be either worry or exasperation as he shows off the blood that’s seeped through your trousers and onto his shirt.

“Sorry?”

Somehow, he accepts not getting a hold of the doctor. “I’ll...I’ll get what we need to rebandage it while you...” He motions to the bloody clothes, a pink tinge rising to the tip of his ears before he hurries out of the room.

It’s easier said than done and you’ve only managed to wriggle your butt out of the pants by the time he returns with cloths, bandages and hot water. Eyeing the lack of progress, Benimaru wordlessly asks for permission to help with the rest (leaving you in underwear and an oversized t-shirt) which he is granted – you’re too exhausted to keep up the hopeless charade of independence, preferring to be cared for. By him, specifically.

The large hands work meticulously, gently shifting off the layers of the soaked bandages while you lie back to watch in wonder. His shock of black hair can’t obscure the frown or the way he pulls his lips tight when the cloth sticks to the wound and you bite back a hiss of pain. He cradles your thigh with a subtle grasp as he begins to dab away the mess and turning the damp cloths continuously lighter shades of pink until everything finally is clean again.

“You’re luckier than you deserve,” Benimaru grumbles, “stitches are holding. It’s just been seeping from underneath.”

Pushing yourself up by the elbows, you can see he’s right and that a new bruise has formed around the wound. Okay...I’ll have to take it easy a few days more. “Fine...maybe you were right.”

“Maybe? Trust me, by the time it’s wrapped up, you’ll know I’m right.”

It’s obvious that’s he’s taking care, trying to shuffle your leg as little as possible and such, but the bandage has to stay in place and so he can’t let it be too loose. Sure, after the first layers of foamy material directly on the wound, the shifting pressure isn’t quite as bad...but it’s bad enough. Your nails are digging into your palms, teeth into lip, and tears are pouring down your cheeks even if you aren’t making a sound by the time Benimaru is done and has lifted your ankle up by placing a stack of pillows under the calf and foot.

“I’m sorry,” he hushes you, spreading the covers over you, “I really tried to be careful.”

“Mhmm.” You don’t trust your voice to say anything else, but lift the covers aside for him to join you. “Please?”

Something deep and warm moves in those mix-matched eyes of his as you studies your face. Then he discards everything but his boxers and lies down on his side, facing you. The touch of his fingertips is barely there as he wipes away the tracks of the tears.

“I know...I won’t always be able to prevent you from hurting...but I wish I could, babe,” he whispers.

Of course he can’t. It doesn’t matter though, you decide, as long as he’ll be there to help you afterwards and you tell him as much, words mumbled against his lips before losing yourself in a slow kiss.

You are both out of breath when he breaks away.

“I’m not letting you leave bed tomorrow except for the absolute minimum!” Beni vows.

“I could be convinced if you come and cuddle up with me sometimes.”

Raising an eyebrow at the weak smirk you grant him, he seems to consider the idea for a few seconds before smiling: “Fine. I can accept that.”

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lambourngb · 3 years

Note

rocks that i was too afraid to climb

aww thanks for the ask! Okay this one should be short, it's based off a first line meme from a while ago (sorry folks, I'm very slow on these!) and contains some speculation for 3x12.

based on the spoiler - Jones wants something from Michael. Obviously I don't think the show will go in this direction...

***

“I want to wake up next to you. Every morning,” Alex confessed with his eyes closed. His face was too pale as he laid his head on Michael’s leg in the narrow enclosure of the cave. It was clear that the long confinement without food or water had weakened Alex, more than Michael’s alien stamina. “Was that too much to ask?”

Three days had passed since Jones had taken them both and imprisoned them in a part of the cave system not unlike the cell his own mother had crafted for his father. No water, no food. All Michael had was the gleam of alien glass barring the exit and a disconcerting blankness where his connection to Max and Isobel should be. The glass had to have properties blocking the psychic connection between them, he refused to believe any other alternative.

“No, not too much, and we’re going to get that, okay?” Michael reminded him softly, brushing back the oily unwashed locks of hair from his face. “Shhh, just rest, don’t want you wasting precious water talking.”

“Not a waste. ‘Is part of his plan.” Alex opened his eyes, licking at his dry and cracked lips. “Jones wants me near death so you will do whatever he wants.”

Michael glanced back toward the mouth of the prison, where the surface moved with shades of pink and purple but remained impenetrable. He knew Alex was right, that this space of time was just a way to soften Michael up for the ask. The first day had been easy, pacing the length of the cage, trying to use their cell phones for a signal and then sitting down to conserve energy. The second day had been spent simply holding each other, watching the surface of their cage closely for movement, and now it was day three. Their phones were dead, and no matter how still they were, there wasn’t any energy to conserve. His stomach had stopped growling a while ago, the habit of going hungry returning like an unlucky penny.

The habit of his youth though, meant he was never without a snack in the various layers he wore. This time it was a packet of peanut butter crackers secreted in the inner pocket of his flannel. It took a fierce fight to get Alex to accept them yesterday. “I’m an alien, I can be healed from everything but you, you’re not, so take the crackers or I’m going to drop them in our piss and shit hole and neither of us will get to enjoy them, got it?” He had waved to the small corner of their prison they had designated for bodily waste with the crackers in hand as a threat.

Thankfully, Alex had believed him and he had slowly let the crackers dissolve in his mouth over the span of the rest of the day.

Now the crackers were gone, the walls of the cave were moist enough to garner a few drops of moisture that Michael carefully gathered in the cellophane of the wrapper from the crackers. Three small beads of water slowly dripped down the plastic to brush against Alex’s lips.

The touch had Alex opening his eyes to glare at him weakly, even as he greedily licked up the precious drops. “Michael-”

“I’ll get the next few drips, okay?”

Too tired to fight more, Alex shifted closer to him for warmth. Michael had shed all of his layers except his undershirt, covering Alex as best he could in flannels and his well-worn jacket, but even that couldn’t stop Alex from shaking in the cold, damp cell. Having long since discarded his prosthetic leg and liner, his right pant leg was carefully knotted just below his knee to retain warmth. Between Michael’s body temperature and the careful blanket of clothes, they both knew it was a lack of food and water that fuelled the tremors.

“So on our first date, we tackled a mysterious brain melting machine, cut out the sabotaging mechanism your father inserted, and retrieved the message my mother had hid there over 50 years ago. And now on our first month anniversary, we’re being held captive by my psycho dad. Not sure how we’re going to top that for our first year anniversary. Might need to stop an alien invasion or something,” Michael joked softly as he played with Alex’s hair.

“Marry,” Alex murmured.

“What?”

“After a year,” he nuzzled at Michael’s hand weakly but slowly forcing the words out. “We get married.”

“Oh are you asking? Like this? When it’s been three days since I’ve showered? Seriously, Manes!?” Michael kept his voice light, prodding Alex for a response as he watched worriedly. Alex was only getting weaker. If this was about forcing Michael’s compliance, Jones could have saved them two days of pain. That’s how long he’s been ready to cooperate.

#malex #wip meme #some classic hurt-comfort #spoilers for 3x08

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bowieandqueen11 · 3 years

Text

Time For Reading / Dewey Denouement Imagine

Request: Dewey does deserve to be happy. I can imagine having the sweetest/domestic evenings with him after a long day at work. He seems like he would read to you while sitting together.

I love this man so much thank you for letting me imagine this <3

If you enjoy, please comment!! I may have stayed up writing this oops

Dewey Denouement may not be the kind of man to place his feet up at the end of the day, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t.

It was a cold night, the sort of chill blowing through the cracks in the library’s doors that made you thankful for the crackling fire by your feet. The embers flashed red, hot and heavy before leaving their smoky trail in the October air as they fell back down onto the kindling. You stared at them for a moment, dancing like a circus troupe in front of your vision. A trapeze artist there, some juggling pins in another corner of the pit, and finally, the fiery lion’s roar rises from the middle of the heap, before falling onto the floor in a pile of ash. You snuggle down, burrowing deeper into the suit jacket you had stolen off of Dewey’s shoulders this morning. He had never seen it coming, too busy pressing back against the kiss you had pressed against his lips when you had come in to deliver him his morning coffee. He had smiled against your lips as he pulled away, nuzzling his nose against yours with a twitch of his moustache as you massaged his shoulders, gently levering the jacket down before stealing it away.

You wished he would hurry back, missing him already despite the fact you had only just heard the final, surprisingly pained sounding whistle of the library’s kettle. Although you knew, since his parents perished in that fire you both blamed Olaf for before his fifth birthday, that he would keep his promise to try and spend some more time away with you, rather than his catalogue. He was trying his best, you knew that. He also made it clear how much he loved you, evident in all the old bookshelves that lined the library’s walls that he had filled with your wish list, numerous treasures and memories stuffed into every crevice and nook of this small home he made yours. He knew, and had tried to tell you time and time again, that this was no life for someone as precious as you, but you had refused to leave him to this fate alone.

So instead of one librarian, Hotel Denouement gained two.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes and placing them up onto the old leather chair. You turn your nose back to your book, letting your mind fall back into a similar world of adventure and wonderment. You had only got a few more pages in, the book old and heavy in your tired hands, before you could hear the familiar sound of Dewey’s warm, deep humming swirling through the air as if in a dream. Before you can even place your bookmark back into the worn, crumpled pages before you feel a warm breath of air beside the tip of your ear.

‘I’m sorry I took so long, Y/n. The tea took quite a while to brew, on account of the brewing time of the leaves and the fact... we need a new kettle.’

You grin, reaching over the top of the chair until you grab the collars of his dress shirt. Running a thumb over his maroon tie, you pull his smiling face down until he reaches his lips. When you finally let go of him, he presses a final kiss against your forehead, moving to place the two steaming cups of jasmine tea he carried within the ornate china cups with his fingertips down onto the wooden side table of the living area.

He glances over at you, a glowing, slightly goofy but completely enamoured smile playing on his lips as he takes his usual seat in his own matching leather chair, placed facing towards your own on the other side of the fire. You lift your feet up, the two of you set in a steady and comfortable routine. He wipes the creases off of the front of his trousers, before replacing them with your feet. You beam at him thankfully from over the cover of your leather bound novel, breathing in the sweet scent of his cologne, and the warm feel of his fingers as they dig into the muscle of his feet. He only raises an amused eyebrow at you.

‘Ah, an interesting choice tonight Y/n. A tale of smoke and mirrors, quite fitting, don’t you think?’

You hum, folding your arms down until you could see the fond look Dewey gave you over the rim of his cup. He takes a sip before continuing, glad to finally be able to have a relaxed conversation for the first time today, with all the time spent preparing for the arrival of the Sugar Bowl. ‘It’s been a while since you’ve read a book from the books labelled 818.’

‘I just thought’, you start, leaning further into his touch as he places his now empty cup back onto the table and leans towards you, giving his full attention. ‘Hopefully, we’ll be out of here soon, and we can start again. A real life, a new life for you Dewey, without all these books and secrets and shadows and betrayal. I just thought it would be fun to reminisce before we finally burn all these secrets down.’

Dewey’s silent for a moment, gazing so intensely at you that despite your best efforts, you feel a blush flooding your face. For a moment, you’re worried you’ve upset him, his eyes so thoughtful, heavy and forlorn as they stare unmoving into yours. Your worries sink quickly, though, when that familiar tick of his raises his moustache, and the twinkle returns to his eye - the familiar sign that he’s amused by your words.

‘Yes, we can finally end this terrible series of events once and for all. Then, there is nothing else I would like more than to never be apart from you again, except for when we are at work, of course, but even that might be too much of a struggle.’

‘I suppose, then’, you begin with a slight grin, ‘we shall just have to retire off to some splendid tropical island somewhere, and spend our days drinking from coconuts and growing apple trees instead of having our noses stuck in books.’

As the two of you sit there grinning, hearts fluttering in time in your chest at the look of absolute devotion that lines both your faces, he’s suddenly quick to react. Smiling deeply, he reaches over and knocks the book straight out of your hands and into his own. Ignoring your cries of protest, he shakes your outreaching hands off and instead intertwines your right one within the large, slender fingers of his right. The other hand busies itself scanning over the words, following the paragraphs down until he finds a place to start.

His words, since they are directed towards you, are so beautiful and elegant. There was no other way, he had learnt in all his books, to speak to a lover. To someone who held your heart so tightly in their hands he felt he might drown with the feel of it. There could never be anger, or malice, when speaking to someone who was more of him that he himself was. So he read on, honeyed words pouring from his tongue in the only outburst of love he had ever learnt to give. Each word earned him a welcome groan, and each welcome groan earned you a tug at his lips until he was beaming.

Letting the words flow over you, you gazed up at the old pane of glass that lay above your head. As the night dwindled on, the heaviness of the water’s shade began to cast darker lines across the walnut floor, each specked with a glaring dot of celeste blue. Turning your chin up, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to feel hopeful for the first in a longest time. Dewey didn’t stop, words gliding from his throat as he admired the way the writhing waves from the pool a world above fell upon your face in an almost otherworldly fashion.

When he was finally satisfied you had fallen asleep, he gently dropped your legs to the floor, one by one. Before heading out, he tucked the jacket he had let you steal earlier tighter around your shoulders, before pressing the most warm, intense and loving kiss he could muster against your cheek, eyes closed in bliss all the while.

He opened them again as he closed the door into the living quarters, leaving all his hopes and dreams locked inside. Instead, he stepped further into the navy shades of glooming water that seemed to envelope his frame.

It was time to prepare for the arrival of the Baudelaires.

#a series of unfortunate events #dewey denouement #dewey denouement fluff #dewey denouement x reader #asoue #asoue netflix #asoue imagine #a series of unfortunate events imagine

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hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years

Text

Friends Don’t Look at Friends That Way

Requested by anon: Would you mind writing jilys first date???

Pairing: James Potter x Lily Evans

Summary: It’s totally not a date ft. James being a total dumbass

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2.1k

The hallway was bustling and teeming with students, pushing through each other in an attempt to make it to class on time. The second floor east hallway was always this busy in between classes and James loved to sit back and watch the chaos. With a free period after lunch, he usually spent his free time sitting on a ledge in the corridor, watching first years attempt to journey through the throngs of older students and observing as Gryffindors and Slytherins purposely knocked into each other.

James waved to Peter from his spot and Peter grimaced back as he attempted to maneuver around a particularly happy couple that had decided that the middle of the hallway was an appropriate spot to snog. James chuckled and continued to scan the crowd before his mouth settled into a soft smile as he spotted a familiar head of red hair.

Lily pushed through the crowd with her eyebrows set into a hard line and her face filled with determination, just as she always did. She was small, her head landing somewhere near the height of James’ shoulders, and needed to focus all on her strength on getting through the bustle. Her hair was loose, he noted to himself, something Lily rarely did. Usually, her hair was thrown into a tight plait or was pulled together into a bun at the base of her neck. Occasionally, on days where she was feeling particularly happy, she’d tie off her hair with a red ribbon. But free-flying locks were a true rarity, one that James treasured.

He loved when she wore her hair down, reveling in the messiness and wildness of it all. She had been growing her hair since she had cut it to her shoulders in fifth year, and it now reached midway down her back, the ends beginning to curl slightly. When it was down, he’d catch her playing with the ends in class, curling the hair around her fingers and she took notes. James always had to restrain himself from reaching over and smoothing it down, running his hands through the hair he admired so often. But they were friends. Tentative friends who were constantly toeing the line between warm acquaintances and real friends. James had finally crossed the threshold into friendship territory and he was not about to fuck it up by acting on his unrequited feelings.

Practically everyone knew that he was deeply and undisputedly in love with her. It was a terribly kept secret for most of his schooling, resulting in many embarrassing rejections and late nights spent wondering how he could make himself be enough for her.

But following a particularly nasty fight in their fifth year, James came to the realization that he was essentially making a prat out of himself every day and that she would never be with him if he kept acting like one. So he spent the next two years trying to better himself, attempting to find a way to cure his overall “pratiness”.

And now here he was, the spring of his seventh year, finally friends with Lily Evans and just as in love with her. And James had realized several things. For one, he quite enjoyed being Lily’s friend and he’d rather stay friends than be nothing at all. And secondly, admitting his feelings could subsequently jeopardize their friendship, a risk he was not willing to take. So James grinned and bore the ache of knowing they’d never be together in the capacity that he wanted. But then she’d laugh at his stupid jokes and hug him after quidditch matches and it would all be enough. Just a smile from her could sate his need for her, just being in her presence was a blessing. So James would take what he could get.

Lily pushed farther into the horde of students and James realized suddenly that she was going in the opposite direction than the Ancient Runes classroom. She planted her feet in front of his ledge and looked up at him, determination in her eyes and her hands firmly at her side.

“Potter,” she acknowledged him with a nod.

“Evans,” James replied with a smile. Lily took a deep breath.

“Please meet me at the Three Broomstick at one o’clock this weekend,” she stated, with no hint of a question in her voice. James blinked in surprise. He wasn’t quite sure why she was telling him this. They usually went to the Three Broomsticks together on Hogsmeade weekends along with the Marauders and Lily’s roommates. He didn’t really need to be reminded.

“Alright Lily,” James replied, “Would you like me to pass the message along to Remus?” Lily coughed slightly and looked down. James thought he saw a flash of red on her cheeks before her face was curtained by her hair.

“No actually,” she said, softer this time. “I was thinking just you and I could go. Alone.” James blinked again. Now, this was unusual. For a split second, the word date popped into his head but James quickly pushed it aside. He remembered all of his failed attempts to ask Lily out and how vehemently she swore she would never date him. There was absolutely no way that this could be a date. It was just two friends hanging out.

But James would give just about anything to spend a little time with Lily.

“Yeah alright,” he said after a beat, “I’ll see you there.” Lily gave James a tight smile and a curt nod before stalking off to Ancient Runes, leaving a very confused James behind her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

“It’s not a date,” James insisted as he flopped onto his bed. Sirius barked out a laugh from his spot by the dresser, throwing James’ favorite shirt at him.

“Of course it’s a date you idiot,” Sirius insisted, “The two of you squished into a booth together alone. A textbook date if I’ve ever seen one.” James groans before running a hand down his face.

“What was it she told me? That she’d rather kiss the giant squid than go out with me?” James said, shooting Sirius an incredulous look. James pulled off his t-shirt and pulled on the shirt that Sirius had tossed him. It was a long-sleeved green shirt that his mother had given him in fourth year. At first, James had despised it as it was nearly the same shade of green as the Slytherin house colors. But then one day, he was struck with the realization that the fabric was the same shade as Lily’s eyes. It had been his favorite shirt ever since.

“James, she said that two years ago,” Sirius said, “Her opinion has probably changed.” James grunted and ruffled his hair.

“No Sirius, there is no way she could ever feel that way towards me. And I’ve spent so much time trying to be friends with her that I am not going to risk it by assuming this is a date. It’s just a day spent together between friends,” James ranted as he pulled on his shoes. Sirius just sighed and leaned back.

“If it’s not a date why are you so nervous about it?” Sirius questioned. James let out an exasperated huff and smoothed his shirt.

“Because it’s her,” he said, “She’ll always make me nervous just by being her.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

James stepped into the Three Broomsticks at exactly one o’clock. He spotted Lily sitting at a booth in the back, picking at the skin around her nails. James frowned, knowing that this was a nervous habit of hers. But what could Lily possibly be nervous about?

James smiled at her as he slid into the seat in front of her. Lily looked up and smiled back, though the smile was tight.

“Hey, Evans,” James said. Lily’s smile dropped slightly.

“Hello James,” she replied, “I already ordered us drinks, I hope you don’t mind.” James waved his hand.

“No, no, of course that’s fine,” he replied. Lily nodded and looked down at her hands, letting a tense silence fall over the table. James took this moment to drink in her appearance, hoping that he wasn’t being too obvious. Her cheeks were flushed and James attributed it to the warmth that filled the pub. Her hair was down, much to James’ delight, and it fell haphazardly in her face. James’ hand itched to tuck it behind her ear.

The silence was broken by the two butterbeers arriving at their table, and Lily finally looked up. She took a long sip of her drink and discreetly wiped away the foam from her lip.

“So um… How are you?” Lily asked, her voice stiff. James let out a bewildered chuckle. Usually when James and Lily hung out the conversation would be filled with banter. And they would talk about real things; the war, their families, what their dreams were outside of school. They seldom shared menial small talk. How are you? It was such a stilted question and so unlike them.

“I’m fine, how are you?” James answered slowly.

“I’m good,” Lily replied quickly. James furrowed his eyebrows and racked his brain for something to talk about, hoping to get things back to normal. He quickly launched into a story about his last quidditch practice, earning a few laughs from Lily. From there on the conversation flowed much more easily, but it still felt as if Lily was somewhat jittery.

James and Lily left the pub nearly two hours later and began the trek back to the castle. The walk was quiet but not entirely uncomfortable. Lily’s hand kept brushing against James’ and he fought desperately against the urge to intertwine his fingers with hers. Lily came to a halt and cleared her throat.

“I had a really nice time today,” She said softly, her eyes wide. James turned to her too and smiled.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied. Lily let out a heavy breath, seemingly in relief, and smiled.

“Okay good,” she said, the most relaxed James had seen her all day. “I was nervous, you know? First dates are nerve-wracking.” James froze, feeling as if the ground had disappeared from underneath him.

“Date?” James finally managed to utter, “This was a date?” Lily’s face immediately fell, turning bright red. She put her face in her hands and started to turn away.

“Fuck,” she groaned into her hands, “I’m so so sorry.” James flinched and began to shake his head profusely.

“Wait no-”

“Godric, this is so embarrassing. I thought I was clear,” Lily ranted, refusing to look at him.

“Lily just hold on a second-”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I’ve liked you for a while and I realize now that it was unfair of me to assume that you still liked me and I feel so terrible for putting you in this situation,” she continued to ramble. She was running her hands through her hair and she was looking anywhere but James. If she had spared him a glance she would have noticed the bloom of red across his cheeks and the dopey smile on his face.

“Please, I’d really like if we could still be friends I didn’t mean to ruin it-”

“Lily,” James interrupted, finally able to stop her. “I don’t want us to friends. Not after this.” If it was possible, Lily’s face fell even more, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Oh. I just hoped that-” James cut her off once again, but this time, with a kiss. Lily stiffened for a moment before melting into him. He reached his hand up to her face and cradled her cheek, running his thumb over the soft curve of her jawline. She tasted like butterbeer and her lips were softer than he had ever imagined. She hummed into his lips and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

James had never felt happier than in this moment, Lily clinging to the front of his shirt and her body pressed against his. His knees felt weak, but he felt like he was flying despite it. Nothing had ever felt so right, like a puzzle piece finally falling into place.

Lily finally broke away, her face flushed and her lips swollen. She looked up at James shyly, her eyes wide and her pupils blown.

“If I had known it was a date I would have tried a hell of a lot harder,” James said with a laugh. Lily giggled and pressed her head to his chest. He reached up his hand and finally brushed her hair behind her ear, reveling in the fact that he no longer had to restrain himself.

So you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Lily asked slyly. James scoffed.

“Unless you allow your friends to kiss you like that, no way,” he replied. Lily grinned and tugged him down to meet her lips again.

“Good,” Lily replied, “I don’t want to be friends either.”

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfiction #jily fluff #james potter #lily evans #lily evans potter #lily potter #James Potter x Lily Evans #marauders era #marauders fic #young marauders #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Feyre x Lucien

I’m gonna be honest, I normally hate cheating and anything related, but….I hate Rhysand more 😭😭I’m sorry it’s true. Nothing I hate more than an entitled white(up for debate I suppose), cishet man that is worshipped for being a feminist icon. Anyways, enjoy the story.

@decadantstudent @e-bacellar

Feyre was fuming mad and she planned on giving Lucien an earful until he promised to come to the next winter solstice.

"You are avoiding me." Feyre declared as she burst into his room. Surprisingly, he was not shocked by her entrance. Vassa must have warned him that she would be coming.

"Has it ever occurred to you that not everything is about you Feyre?" Lucien gave a heavy sigh as he finished buttoning the cuff on his left hand. He was standing in front of a long mirror, looking as regal and handsome as ever. Feyre put both hands on her hips and gave him the same look Nyx received when he was in trouble.

"Then why did you not come to solstice?" She demanded. She could not explain why her feelings were so hurt, but they were. After everything they had been through, he should at least come to celebrate her birthday.

"Believe it or not, Feyre, you are the only one who wants me there. Not very welcoming." He met her eyes through the mirror before fiddling with his next cuff. Feyre knew her family was not very kind to him, but she did not realize it had bothered him. Most insults slid off his back as if he had never heard it in the first place. With his quick wit and even quicker mouth, Feyre just assumed he might even like the banter.

"That is not true." She struggled to think of anyone else who liked having Lucien there. There was no one, but she simply wanted to argue with him at this point. "Nyx likes you."

"Nyx is a baby. He likes everyone."

"It is my birthday, Lucien. The least you could do is show up."

"I sent a gift. Did you not get it?" He elegantly leaned his shoulder against the wall. His nonchalance bothered her though.

"The bow and arrows were lovely but that's not the point, Lucien." She could admit they had been one of her favorite gifts. It had been perfectly crafted to fit all of Feyre's preferences. She brought it with her on every mission now.

"Then what is?" The bastard had the nerve to look amused.

"I was a much better friend to you than you were to me and now all I ask is for you to come to one event a year."

"Feyre, what do you want from me? I cannot go back and change the past. Trust me I would if I could. How can I fix it if an apology will not?" He seemed exasperated by the entire situation which only resulted in infuriating Feyre further.

"Changed behavior! Be a better friend." She shrieked as she crossed her arms across her chest. She was hoping to come across as a disappointed mother, but she felt more like a nagging mate.

"You hardly seemed like you even wanted me there the last three solstices. So what do you really want?" Lucien pushed himself off the wall and elegantly stretched out on his emerald green couch. Feyre reconsidered for a moment. What did she want?

"Answers."

Lucien looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Would you ever have intervened with Tamlin if Rhysand did not exist?" She decided to ask. She had blamed Lucien as much as Tamlin for what had happened. No matter how unfair, part of Feyre did resent Lucien. He gave a pained look. The first hint of something other than annoyance.

"Eventually. Not as soon as you would have wanted." He admitted while looking away, clearly ashamed. His jaw clenched tightly under her watchful eye.

"Why?"

"Tamlin has done more for me than any other fae. Betraying him in the worst way possible would not have been easy." Lucien offered. There was more to it that he was refusing to admit to and Feyre was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"But allowing me to suffer was?" She asked softly as she stared at her feet. It appeared seeing each other’s faces would be too much for both of them considering neither would look at each other.

"No! I did not know it was as bad as it was. Unlike you Feyre I am not a mind reader. It was not like you came crying to me about how miserable you were."

He had a point there. As close as she was to Lucien, she knew he would not respond how she wanted, so she kept her feelings inside. Regardless, he must have known she was unhappy.

"Do not pretend. You knew it was bad." She finally found the courage to look up at him, but his head was in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.

"What would you have done in my position? Say Azriel was mistreating that priestess he is so fond of and no one else knew? Would you whisk her away knowing it would destroy him without a second thought? Without a plan hm?" There was such conviction in his eye when he looked up at her that

Feyre paused. She cocked her head to analyze Lucien. Had he been concocting a plan to help her? One that never came to fruition because of Rhysand? She ignored that thought altogether. It was too complicated to piece apart.

"Can you be honest for like five minutes, Lucien?"

"I have been honest!" He was clearly frustrated as he snapped at Feyre. He stood up from the chair.

"Then tell me why you did not help me?" She demanded. "You saw what he was doing to me and allowed it to continue." Feyre had never been this angry at Lucien, but all her previous resentment was rising to the surface and she could not contain it. Her chest was heaving from all the yelling she had done.

"Because I loved you!" He shouted back at her while pacing the length of his room. "Because I knew it was suffocating you and I could not find it in myself to stop it because I wanted you safe as much as Tamlin did."

Feyre reared back at Lucien's admittance. She truly was not expecting that. Lucien stopped his pacing to look at her through his one good eye. He looked miserable and clearly did not want to talk about this, but Feyre had forced it out. He dragged his hand through his hair rather roughly. Feyre suddenly wished she had never come to the band of exiles, had never accused Lucien of being a bad friend. She thought he had been running away from Elain and Tamlin, but perhaps he had been running away from her as well. The space between them felt too small.

"Lucien..." she did not know what to say, so she let the silence drag on. He sighed heavily before sitting in the chaise at the corner of the room once again. He let his head drop, refusing to look her in the eye.

"I knew the prophecy meant you had to fall for Tamlin, so I stepped back. The more time I spent with you though, the more I wanted you for myself. I thought you might have felt the same way until calanmai." He shrugged as if he was not admitting to something that could destroy their entire friendship.

"But then you mated to Rhys and I mated to Elain, and do not misunderstand. Your sister is lovely, but she is not the only one avoiding the bond." He finally looked up at her and the pain in his eye made Feyre want to comfort him. She was unsure if that was appropriate now though. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. She supposed she could offer an olive branch in a room where only Lucien could hear her deepest, buried thoughts.

"I was jealous of Vassa." She blurted before she could stop herself. Lucien tilted his head as he analyzed her words. "I thought I was jealous of your friendship because you were my first true friend, but I think part of me wants you to remain unattached at my side as you were when I was with Tamlin." The hopeful glint in Lucien's eye had her adding on the next part. "I love Rhysand more than life itself and I would not change anything." His face fell.

The silence dragged on with both of them refusing to move any closer to each other. It was safest with Lucien in his chair and Feyre standing by the door. Lucien leaned back in his chair with a surprisingly blank expression. More than anything she wanted to see his smirk and have him crack a joke so that she knew their friendship was not lost forever.

"I started to resent you. That's why I left with Vassa and Jurian." Feyre felt something crack in her chest, but she did not want to ponder all the possibilities of that. "I slept with Ianthe for you."

"I never asked-" Feyre started to interrupt but Lucien held up his hand to stop her.

"I know. But I knew you would never forgive Tamlin if he participated in Calanmai and I did not want that to be something that drove you two apart. I mean I did, but..." he seemed to struggle with his words for the first time ever. He rubbed his hands roughly over his face. "I knew that if I participated that Ianthe would sink her claws into the opportunity." His face went two shades paler and the dread in his voice finally had Feyre crossing the imaginary line in the room. She sat next to him and took his hand. He refused to turn and look at her, but he did squeeze her hand.

"I never wanted that. But I loved you too much and I loved Tamlin too much. I should have put my foot down with him way before you ever entered the picture." Feyre put her hand on his cheek to force him to look at her. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears. It was not her fault that Lucien was forced to be with Ianthe, but she still felt sad that Lucien would have done anything for Tamlin even if he would not have returned the favor.

He grabbed both of her cheeks with his hands and gently brought her face to his. He was giving her time to back away. She realized in this moment she should not have come. The emotionally charged room kept her from pulling away. She thought she was giving Lucien a passionate kiss before they each went their separate ways permanently. Instead, Lucien very softy brushed his lips against hers and then pulled away. It could hardly be considered a kiss. Once he dropped his hands from her face, the spell was broken and Feyre was moving to the far end of the room.

"Sorry." Was all Lucien could muster without even looking at her. Her face flamed bright red with a wave of shame and something else she did not want to label.

"It's fine." She stammered. "I should go."

He let her leave the room without so much as a look in her direction. Feyre had never quite understood all her feelings where Lucien was concerned. She planned on keeping it locked away forever though.

#feyre archeron #acotar #lucien vanserra #acosf #rhysand #feycien

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Step three

Back with another spicy part while I wait for more tasty tasty asks! This one includes consent! Look at Illumi go!

cw: nsfw, possessiveness, mentions of murder, that’s about it honestly

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi enjoyed his new relationship, but he was also somewhat confused by it. He was never taught much about 'dating', marriage was about the only romantic dynamic he knew of in detail, but after 5 or so outings together with you, his mother had informed him that you two were officially a couple. However, when the dark haired assassin had assured her he'd be swift in getting a wedding band for you, she'd put a halt to his plans, "Now now Illumi dear, you can't just jump to marriage with this girl." she'd chided gently, "She's shy, you'll overwhelm her with talk of marriage so soon. You still have wooing to do, so start out slow, 'boyfriend and girlfriend' status for now." The thought made the man grimace, "Mother, I can further court her when she's my fiancee," His mother huffed at his stubborn tone, "Dear, the titles of 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' are basically the same as fiance. The only difference is referring to this girl as your girlfriend will spook her less than calling her your wife. Trust me on this, your father was not the first man to date m-" He hung up on her before she could finish that thought. Nonetheless, he took her advice and refrained from calling you his fiancee, for now, though that's what you were to him in his mind. He'd confirmed his status on your next outing together, and it was reassuring for him to see how you turned pink at his inquiry and stuttered out your acceptance, it solidified the fact that you wouldn't be a wife he needed to worry about too much. However, this progression brought a new level of reluctance to leave you, to let Milluki watch you while he was on jobs. He very much wanted to just scoop you up now and take you to the safety of his family home, but Kikyo shot the idea down again, forcing him to 'take things slow' and 'ease (y/n) into things' . This issue was, of course, never a problem at work though. While it did bother him like a needle pressed too deeply into his shirt, he was a perfect professional, and didn't let his musings over what to do about you turn his work sloppy. If anything, his desire to return to you as soon as possible made him seek out more efficient methods of disposing of his targets, which permitted him some free time to pick off the meager few friends you had on his way back to his secondary home. That sort of detour is what earned him his current position. He'd returned home from a rather textbook assassination that had been simple to do and spared him a day or two to hunt down and kill your final remaining friend to you once again miserable. "W-we're dating, right?" you'd asked, your voice shakey with anguish despite the (favorite flower) Illumi was standing on your porch offering to you. He nodded, hiding his disdain at the word behind a mask of his usual unchanging expression, "Than...do you mind staying the night with me? I've now l-lost all of mm-my friends and I've been so lonely..." you explained, physically shaking from the strain of fighting back tears. Illumi adored seeing you so isolated and alone, it was adorable in a dark way, and it meant he could finally be your only source of substantial human contact. You'd finally depend on him severely. Of course Illumi agreed to your demand, so the two of you spent the day together, and when evening fell, you snuggled into his side, squishing your form to him as if that would push out more of the attention you so craved. It was honestly hard for him not to smile in the dark living room while you watched a movie and clung to him while he played with your (h/l), (h/c) hair, you were just too cute when you were so needy for him. Just like she was the night I'd moved in. he thought, but than had to force himself not to recall the night you'd slept on the couch in nothing but your panties and a shirt, begging for him to claim you with the way you laid on your back, shirt pushed up just enough to preview a hint of your (r/c) panties. Now was not the time to rile himself up. He might not have much self-restraint. Luckily, he had the discipline to focus on something else aside from that night, and he found he rather enjoyed having you nestled beneath his arm, your own (s/c) arm draped loosely across his chest and, after a while, your leg thrown over his lap. The simple physical contact made Illumi burn with an addictive, yet not lustful, warmth. He couldn't place the feeling, but it made the ebony haired assassin tighten his grip on your dozing form. If he wasn't certain of your destiny as his wife, he was now. After that night, he admittedly lingered a tad. He came over quite a bit under the guise of checking on you while you were so vulnerable, but it seemed he wasn't as skilled at hiding such an unknown emotion. "Illumi?" you hummed one night when he was over, laying between your legs with his head on your chest while you lounged on the couch with a tv show on as a way to keep you from being awkward in the silence, "Yes, (y/n)?" he responded, moving to look up at you while you threaded your fingers through his silky black hair, "I do enjoy you coming over and spending time with me, but you do realize you can just come over to hang out sometimes, right?" you asked, smiling slightly. "Ah, I don't want to seem overbearing," he said, lying slightly, not wanting to try and explain this addiction to your soft, affectionate touches and cuddles. You giggled, blushing a bit as you spoke again, "Well, I-I don't mind you being over, so as long as you ask first, I don't see how you'd be overbearing." you assured. Illumi hummed in response, looking at you curiously for a moment before he resituated himself so that he was propped up on his elbows, your face darkening in response to the shift causing his hips to be pressed more against yours, to look down at you. For a moment the two of you looked at one another, than he lowered his head and kissed you. He felt you tense in response, so he pulled away slightly, far enough to break the kiss, but close enough so that his warm breath gently fanned over your (s/c) face. However, you didn't complain, instead giggling and turning a darker shade of pink, so after a short moment, he pressed his lips to yours again in a quick kiss, pausing for a shorter time before doing it again. Much to his delight, you began kissing back. With that encouragement, he held the next kiss, leading you into a short make out session. After he pulled away again, you giggled again, your face now pretty red, which gave Illumi a spark of smug satisfaction, I'm the only man you'll be this vulnerable for. He mentally told you, but he refrained from verbalizing the thought at this moment. He could potentially get consent for sex, he couldn't risk it for his controlling urges. "Um, 'lumi?" you asked, your voice a quiet, slightly breathy whisper, drawing the man out of his possessive thoughts and back to the moment, "d-do you think we could, I dunno, um, s-see how far this goes?" you asked, your (e/c) eyes now refusing to meet his, but this time it wasn't because of how empty they were, but because of your flustered nerves. "Only if you want to," he assured, "though, you should know that I have a habit to get a bit rough," he warned, more to see how you'd react. Judging from your embarrassed silence, you weren't opposed to that. Such a good girl, (y/n) He thought before going in for another kiss, moving one hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him possessively. You squeaked, but only wrapped your arms around his neck, wiggling your hips testingly against the growing bulge in his pants, mewling when he mindlessly rutted against you. After that, things swiftly got more heated. He snuck a hand up your shirt as he moved his mouth down to your neck, no longer hesitating to leave a trail of rather rough love-bites down to your collar bone. He relished the little noises each nip and bite brought, even if they were more pained than pleasurable whimpers, as he tugged your top off and let you tentatively remove your bra, willingly revealing the soft breasts he'd memorized the night he'd laid his claim on you. Something about you shyly removing your clothes made his dick throb more. He was rather eager to nibble and suck at the tender (s/c) skin until you were writhing and whining more, your noises encouraging his touches, especially when he snaked a hand between your bodies to press against your clit and you gasped, pressing your hips into his hand hungrily. With that, he tugged your bottoms off, getting up to shed his own pants but returning to station himself back between your legs before you could sit up. He pushed you back down onto the couch and kissed you again, this time more forceful in the way he claimed your mouth and ate the needy moans you gave in response. The way you clawed into his shirt and did your best to grind against his cock to achieve any friction you could woke that primal emotion he always failed to repress, threatening to drive him crazy. "(y/n)," he breathed, not outwardly showing just how badly a possessive, neglected desire was burning him from the inside out beyond his stiff member and the tight grip he had on your thighs, "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, his urges mixing with his lust strong enough for him to realize the likelihood of him potentially crossing a line. With your shy nod, he positioned himself correctly and pushed into you. He hummed along with your slightly shocked moan at the feeling of his throbbing member pressing into the delicious warmth of your welcoming cunt until he was buried up to his hilt. "I-Illumi!" you breathed, gripping his shirt desperately while your walls twitched and spasmed around him as you adjusted to the intrusion. He grunted and kissed you as he began moving, slowly at first, but it didn't take long for the pleasure to drive him to pushing your thighs up to your chest and speeding up until the only sounds he heard in the room was the slew of lascivious noises you made and the slapping of skin upon skin. The new position made you moan more, slurring out his name, drunk on the delectable sensations after only a short while, when you orgasmed and your walls tightened around the assassin. However, he didn't stop to give you a break, only letting one of your legs go to move his hand to your hip, keeping you in place as he now plowed into you, driven by the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rolled through him. Outwardly, he didn't seem terribly phased, making few noises, but if the rough pace didn't reveal his feelings, the burning urge to make you scream his name was a big piece of evidence. "Tell me who you belong to," he ordered, his voice firm and steady as always, despite how he was skillfully thrusting into you to make your (e/c) eyes roll into the back of your head. "Say it" he repeated, gripping your hip so hard it'd bruise again until you managed, "y-yours! I'm yours!" you whined, clawing into the couch since you could no longer reach his shoulders, "Again," he ordered, making sure to hit your g-spot so that you once again arched your back and moaned his name loudly, "I'm yours! I-I'm all yours Illumi!" you gasped out, beginning to whine and whimper from the creeping pain of overstimulation, though luckily for you, the sound of you saying you belonged to him was the push the assassin needed. He locked his hips against yours, ensuring he was as deep as he could be before shooting ropes of cum into you with a groan. As he came down from his euphoria high, he realized he still held onto your thigh and hip so hard that your thigh at least was beginning to bleed under his nails. You, however, didn't seem to mind or notice. He could see that your (e/c) eyes were already beginning to drift shut, your brain more than likely fried from your own repeated orgasm. It wasn't a new sight to him, but he savored it and the thought that he was the only one who would give you such ecstasy from now on. Once he could regain his composure, the little he lost, the man was careful as he moved you to lay on him, his dick still nestled snugly inside you, ensuring none of his potent seed slipped out while the two of you dozed off to the sounds of the forgotten TV.

#Illumi #yandere illumi #x reader #yandere #Yandere Illumi x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #not sfw #part 8 #fanfiction #quotev

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

There are No Wolves in The Desert

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

Part 3 - An (in)Decent Proposal

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Summary: Oberyn makes you an offer you cant refuse.

Authors notes: Whoop here part 3 sorry this is taking SO long but I have no MOTIVATION (sang like jean ralphio)😭 Thank you for reading and sharing and commenting I love y all so much💕💕💕💕

TW: Mentions of incest (walder frey), mentions of alcohol, fighting

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged: @evyiione @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial @ayamenimthiriel

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The large wooden doors of your room slowly creak open rousing you from your restful slumber. You open one eye allowing yourself to adjust to the sun's bright rays that were coating your room's walls, brightening their pastel hues. You cautiously shift up, gaze locked on the door fingers clutched around your knife. Your fist relaxes as two figures enter the room, the first belonging to Shana who you recognized from last night and the other, to a younger girl. Shana walks towards the long table placing down the assorted fruits, breads and wine while the younger girl sits on your bed, slowly unscrewing a teal coloured jar’s lid. Your eyes follow her as she leans forward.

“Are you a Targareyn?” she asks, hand slowly hovering towards your face, intent on applying a cream to the area that had been forcibly rammed into a wall last night.

“No,” you respond, shifting back and out of her reach.

“You look like one,” she offers scooting closer to you determined to sooth your wound.

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, causing her to duck her head down in embarrassment, noticing her reaction, and feeling somewhat guilty you continue “My father was though, so I suppose in a way you are correct. You have a sharp eye, what is your name?” you query hoping to relieve any embarrassment.

“Kaina” she responds, eyes still on the bed spread.

“How old are you, Kaina?” you question, watching as an easiness washes over her as you allow her to apply the salve to your broken skin.

“Six and ten” she says, meticulously dabbing the mixture onto your face.

“Has the prince..ever.. propositioned you, ” you ask cautiously, curious as to the character of the man whose home you had been invited into.

“No, he has no eyes for children,” she says, redonning the jars lid.

“Which is more than you can say for the men of Westeros,” Shana quips as she appears at your side offering you a bowl of fruit which you take with a thank you. You pluck a raspberry from the bowl and pop it into your mouth, the freshness and sweetness delighting your tastebuds.

“That is very true, I knew of one man who married his own daughters,” you say, causing the two women to look at you horrified.

“When you age are you allowed to stay in the palace?” you query, ignoring their disdain for the practices carried out by the Frey family.

“Yes, we are allowed to stay or leave in order to continue our training if we wish,” Shana states

“Training?” you press.

“We are allowed to study here, I took up healing. Others like Shana learn to cook, others care for animals, or they train to fight, whatever they choose and they are allowed to come and go as they please,” Kaina states.

“You’re treated well here then? ”

“Yes, very much so” they both respond almost in unison.

“And are you paid well?”

“Yes, the princes both believe any service provided demands a payment. May I ask why you ask so many questions my lady?” Kaina ponders, her good nature causing you to smile.

“I am no lady, but I do take great value in the way a man treats his staff, especially those who hold less power than he. If I am to make a deal I wish to know whom I am making it with. I have no need to help abusers, ” you state as she recaps the salve that was now absorbing into your skin.

“A wise woman,” Shana states. “The prince is a good man, as is our king.”

“Neither of them would marry their own children,” the younger girl says standing again, horrified.

“Well that is good to hear,” you say with a soft chuckle,

“Do you need us to dress you my lady?” Shana offers, despite already knowing the answer.

“No I am quite alright thank you,” they curtsey and leave you to dress for the day. You pull on the lightweight leather armour before redonning your cloak, opting to leave the hood down, no point in hiding who you were now, at least while you were within the palace walls.

You stroll leisurely down the palace steps, admiring the limestone architecture and the gold detailing glimmering under the mid-morning sun. You watch the heat ripple as it rises off the metallic features. The day's warmth bears down on your face, even in the winter the dornish heat was nearly unbearable and infinitely warmer than Winterfell. Your head turns towards the sound of children laughing and you watch as two small blurs disappear round a corner, in chase of the butterflies flying throughout the palace. You continue through the garden hand ghosting along the Ivy leaves that snaked through the metallic fencing containing the gardens perimeter. You could easily see yourself getting lost amongst the vines, the winding paths leading off in multiple directions towards unknown destinations. You would return here another time, to truly admire the flora created by the old gods and the new. You stay true to your path for the time being, hoping to locate Oberyn so he could make light of his supposed proposition. You follow the faint metallic clammer echoing in the distance, the sound growing louder as you approach a large wooden arena. The training grounds were large, offering a place to train and exhibit the ornate and hypnotic fighting.

Their style was known across the seven kingdoms for being elegant and deadly, a combination you found paired well with at least one dornish individual you knew.

The arena's overhang offers you some shade, a luxury not afforded to those in the arena, you come to rest your forearms down on the palisade allowing your wrists to drape over the bannister as your shoulders relax. Oberyn's armour glimmers in the sun illuminating the sweat beaded over his tanned skin, a few loose strands of hair plastered to his forehead. You watch as he skillfully knocks his opponent to the ground before turning to you. You watch his charismatic features light up as he strides towards you allowing his opponent to regain his footing.

“Your beauty is greater than the messengers lead me to believe,” he states loudly, causing you to look down and shake your head, unsure what he hoped to achieve by shamelessly flirting with you.

“So you were spying on me,” you respond, ignoring his charms, much to his dismay. Your constant dismissal of his advances leaving him wondering if he had finally found someone immune to his charisma.

“We spy on anyone we think will be an ally or enemy to us, “ he says glancing back, not dropping his guard despite his opponents retreat to the arena's far side.

“Must be a long list,” you offer as he places his spear against the panelling, splashing his face with water before bending down to take a drink from one of the taps found throughout the city.

“Prior to his death, we wanted Robb Stark on our side, and you, or Lady Stark wherever she may be, we were told she was a ferocious warrior, ” he states, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“Don't believe everything you hear. Though I suppose she owes you her life, perhaps a lesson in calligraphy would suffice, your handwriting is quite distinctive,” you smirk watching his head turn in faux shock before returning to his opponent.

“My time was better spent elsewhere,” he shouts back, blocking yet another shot brought forward by the palace guard. Turning he gracefully sweeps the legs out from beneath the man the entire ordeal lasting no longer than a few minutes.

“Pleasures of the flesh have far greater value to me than a pretty note,” he states clearly, turning to gauge your reaction. Despite you declining his advances the subject of sex appeared to have little to no effect on you. There was no giggle or blush that often came in the women of westeros who are told sex is a sacred act for man and wife.

“Too much time doing as you please and not nearly enough time spent doing what you should,” you state, a line your mother had frequently said when you trapsed throughout the forest instead of doing your housework. He looks at you, confusion and glee dancing on his face at your manner, or lack thereof, around him. Being a prince he wasn't used to such a direct tone. Others typically behaved themselves around him, either out of fear or admiration. Though neither were nearly as tantalizing as those who readily disregarded his status with such cutting wit.

“On your left,” you remark, allowing him to catch the oncoming hit just in time. He nods for the man to leave the arena leaving you alone with Oberyn.

“Shall we?” he calls out, and you cock your head to the side.

“You said you wished to practice, you care to try your luck,” he asks, swinging around grinning as he gestures to the large space.

“Luck won't have anything to do with me beating you,” you quip hopping over the panelling and into the arena.

“You need four weapons to defeat me?” he taunts from afar. You shoot him a look as you stab your knife into the ground before removing the quiver and bow placing them against the wall. You turn on the tap and splash your face with the water, flicking the remainder off your hands as you turn and walk into the sun towards your opponent.

“Just two which by my count is one less than you,” you offer.

“I only have one,” he explains

“The spear is long, has two ends, two weapons. Besides you have a shield. Shield counts as a weapon,” you state.

“And you don’t choose to fight without one,” he says, dropping the shield so you have no excuses for his impending victory.

“Don’t need a shield if the enemy is dead before they can reach you,” you explain.

“Cocky”, he says twirling the spear hitting the blunt end into the ground before pointing it forward and bending at the knees in preparation.

“You say as if you are not yourself,” you retort, arms reaching back and removing the swords twirling them before entering your own stance. He’ll make the first move, of that you're sure. He does as you expect, allowing you to stop the hit with your swords crossing them into an ‘x’ and using their combined force to push his spear up and to the side as you uncross them. His underestimation of your strength leaves him off balance as you spin around aiming for his knees. He manages to regain his footing and jumps easily over your sword showing off the flashy fighting style you’d expected of a dornish prince.

“Perhaps not as poor a fighter as you thought,” you state, ducking as he swings his spear around to hit you. Without breaking motion he spins the weapon above his head bringin it down almost hitting you had you not dropped to the ground. Rolling behind him you twirl your swords around and jab the hilts into the back on his knee. He falls to his knees and before he can formulate his next move you stand and kick his weapon out from his hand. He teeters forward and you grab him by the hair tugging it back exposing his throat. You bring your blade to his neck watching his Adam's apple bod as he swallows, eyes looking up to you with what one could only describe as admiration.

“I believe that's a match,” you say, removing the blade and pushing his head forward. He remains kneeling, half in shock, half aroused.

“One and done?” You chide watching as he remains on his knees. It was a sight you could get used to.

“Now there's something I've never been called before,” he chuckles, composing himself and standing back up “You're better than I thought,” he remarks bending to retrieve his spear.

“Is that what the men and women of Dorne say to you?” you taunt, watching as his eyes light up, a smile etched on his face as he searches for a response. “ I was a soldier before I was an assassin,” you explain, closing the silence for him.

“Women are allowed to fight in the north? Perhaps you all are more evolved than I had thought,” he states.

“I never said I was allowed to be there,” you admit, causing him to chuckle. “A murderer, a mercenary, and a liar. What other charming traits do you possess,” he queries winking at you.

“And here I thought the Red Viper was said to have a way with words,” you quip back much to his delight.

“One to one, drop your other sword,” he says, turning back towards you.

“That’s hardly fair,” you retort, more petulant than you’d have liked.

“I thought you would know by now, life isn’t fair,” He remarks and you grit your teeth but do as he requests jabbing your other sword into the ground.

“I should ask you to chop your spear in half,”

“Stop putting it off” he says, shining the spear’s point on his sleeve. It's different now he seems to have sussed out your style and in mere seconds. He lunges forward and you mirror him but he pulls back quickly, dancing out of reach from your sword which swings aimlessly in the air, throwing you off balance. You find your footing just as he sweeps your feet from beneath you knocking you on your back. He swings down but you block it with your forearm, managing to use your free hand to swipe at his ankle. Noticing your movements he jumps back, releasing the pressure of his weight from your arm allowing you to get back up.

“You’re bleeding,” he states, weapon falling to his side, upset at having marked your skin with his blade when he’d much rather have done so with his mouth.

“Stop trying to distract me,” you hiss, upset at being bested so easily. Rushing forward your weapons meet in the air. Metal on wood sounding out as you hack into the spear hoping to break it. As you split the spear in half he allows your force to carry you forward and he maneuvers behind you. A harsh tap on your wrist causes your hand to retract dropping your sword which clammers unhappily to the ground. The spear's blunt end wraps around your waist pulling you into him, his strength more apparent than ever. He brings the bladed end up bracing his arm against your chest and pointing it towards your heart, your body now pressed tightly into his.

“Match,” he whispers softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He lets you go after a minute when he feels your body relax into his, letting you walk off in defeat. He turns back to pick up the broken end of his weapon, and as he does a dagger flies by his head sticking in the wall mere inches from him.

“Chest isn’t a definite kill. The throat is,” you say, your time spent healing leaving you attune to your enemies anatomy.

“I'll add cheating to your growing list of qualities, ” he tuts, throwing the dagger back sticking it in the wall near you. “I could have you hung for a stunt like that,” he states, sauntering over to you.

“Did you have a proposition for me? Or did you only wish for me to come back here so you could be smug?” you query and he laughs watching as you remove the wrist guard from your bloodied arm assessing the gash you’d procured during your fight. He comes over to you placing his hand under your upturned arm caressing it as he looks down at the cut with disdain.

“Come, you should go to the palace healers,” he says softly, offering you insight into why so many found themselves in his chambers.

“No need,” you say, removing the skin to skin contact you so desperately longed for. Grabbing a handful of leaves from a nearby bush you place them in your mouth, chewing them into a paste and rubbing it into the cut, “my mother was a healer. That tree, its leaves cauterize the wound, less pain than fire, less scarring as well,” you state upon seeing his confusion. “Your proposition, my prince?” you ask his eyes going from your arm to your eyes.

“More of a request I suppose. My niece Arianne has gone missing since our last meeting, she was running away somewhere, towards something but someone else got to her first. We have our suspicions as to who has stolen her, but we need evidence prior to the accusation. I had my birds fly around and ask whom to contact, it seemed that you were the one for the job,” he explains.

“Is that so. How do I know I can trust you?” you ask, he’d found you and he’d been good thus far, but anytime you were shown kindness you were hesitant. In your experience it nearly always came with a price.

“I'm sure you're aware, but they have murdered my sister, and my greatest love I will not allow them to take anyone else I care for,” he says, fire in his eyes. It was the most serious you’d seen him. His usual jovity lost in a stoic expression, reminding you of another man you once knew.

“I believe your intentions to be true, but that is not cause for trust,” you explain, watching as nods his head slowly in agreement.

“You cannot trust, because you are unable. I understand why, so I fear nothing I say will ease you, but I swear, no harm will come to you here.”

“Not until you have what you want, at least” you mumble.

“And after,” he reassures, his tone nearly leading you to believe him.

“And apart from payment what's in it for me? If I am to uncover a truth that could start a war. I've spent too long hiding away to risk being found,”

“You have no risk, they think you’re dead, proclaimed it themselves, even if you showed up, they'd never be able to say otherwise. Apart from that, a chance at family,”

“Family,” you scoff, the concept long forgotten. “My family is dead” you say, a lie you told yourself to keep you away from Winterfell, though it was a lie likely to be true, knowing the Lannisters obsession with tying up loose ends.

“The Starks are rising again, Sansa is back in Winterfell, Arya is assumed alive and Jon is leading at the wall,” Oberyn lists off the rumours that had passed by his ears, but they were only whispers, nothing solid enough for you to cling too.

“Even if what you say is true I am nothing to them,” you say, tone remaining level despite the knot forming in your stomach.

“You are there sister,”

“I am not, not anymore, not after I failed them,” you confess.

“How so?”

“You asked me why I was here, I was here to find and plead my case to Danearys Targaryn. At Robbs behest, to help destroy the Lannisters,” you finally admit, a heavy sigh exhaled as you do.

“And I take it you never did,” he watches as a sense of shame, or perhaps it was guilt, wash over you, a crack in your armour.

“You help me find Arianne, you help me bring her home and I will help you reach the mother of dragons,” he states earnestly.

“You know where she is?” you ask head quickly, turning to him.

“Not yet, but I found you, and you were dead, someone alive,” you watch as he pulls a face “should be no problem.”

“And why would you help me,” you query, still unsure of his true motivation for recruiting you.

“An eye for an eye, or perhaps it's purely selfish. An assassin can only go so far. A dragon, now that can take down a lineage,” he says looking down at you.

“I cannot promise her safety, I will not mince words, for all we know Arianne may be dead,” you explain.

“I understand this. Think it over, your welcome to stay here as long as you please, it has been a while since I have faced new opponents, and ones with different training, sloppy as it may be,” he quips, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

“I could say the same of you,” you retort quickly.

“I've never been described as sloppy,” Oberyn states, only partially offended at the insinuation.

“Perhaps you surround yourself with people aiming to please you for too long,” you say, accidentally bumping your shoulder into him, the sudden contact causing a heat to rise in your stomach.

‘Perhaps,” he laughs, noting your flustered reaction, when a man approaches handing him a note which he reads intently. You take the moment to admire his strong features as they concentrate on the note. His brow was furrowed, pouted lips mouthing along to the scripture of the letter before dropping it down to his sides. “As much as it devastated me to do so, I must take my leave from your company, my Lady,” he bows, excusing himself to consult his brother before you can correct him. You continue to stroll through the garden watching a mass of colours bloom around you. You sit on a stone bench wondering how you’d ended up here, wondering if your family was in fact dead, and if any of the Starks truly remained alive.

“You’re the white wolf aren’t you?” you hear a voice call out behind you causing you to laugh.

“What?” the voice demands

“It seems I have many as many names as there are kings these days,” you state.

“Any of them true?” the voice asks as you turn to see the eldest sand snake, Tyene. She was Oberyn and Ellaria's daughter, their first born. She reminded you of Arya, the hardness on her face caused by the brave facade forced onto her.

“I was sorry to hear of your mothers passing, ” you say, turning to face Tyene ignoring her previous question.

“Were you?” she states accusingly.

“I was, she produced and trained all of you after all. You were the only people in Dorne who actually scared me,” you admit.

“If it's any condolence the Shadow Tracker had reached our ears, and my mother was quite impressed with you as well,” she says, knife twirling between her fingers “How did you find him, my father?”

“Unfortunately your father found me. He needs my help, to find your cousin,” you explain hoping to ease her weariness about your place in the palace.

“Who better to take down a lion than someone who lost everything because of them,” she states, trying to see where your allegiances lie. Tyene was always wary when an unknown woman arrived. Concerned they are seeking to use her father to gain power. “Added bonus you look as you do I suppose,” she continues, knife dancing between her digits.

“I wonder why beauty is always what it comes back to? I would be here no matter my face,” you state.

“While I believe you would have been hired, my father has an eye for pretty things. You would have been paid but you wouldn't have been welcomed back to the palace,” she scoffs.

“Are you sure of that?” you question, unsure if she was being truthful or spiteful.

“Yes,” she replies matter of factly

“Well, I'll take that into consideration. Your cousin, Arianne, where was she going the day she disappeared?” you question.

“I don't know,” she mumbles, knife stalling for a moment.

“I don't believe that.”

“We searched her room, we found nothing, nothing but this,” she says, retrieving a small book and handing it to you.

“You give it to me freely?” she hesitates letting it go but her grip eases allowing you to take it.

“If what they say of you is true, perhaps you are the only one who can find her. She can't be left for long. She can't defend herself. All she knows is stitching and art and reading,” Tyene spits, eyes glistening slightly.

“All of which are valiant professions and skills, ones I wish I possessed. They foster patience, skill and planning. They forge a strategic mind, which comes in handy especially when taken by the enemy, ” you explain, your words easing Tyene, though the worry in her eyes remains.

“So she may still be alive,” she questions hesitantly.

“I do not think they killed her at least not yet,” you sigh, tapping the book against your hand “Thank you for trusting me with this,”

“Thank me by finding her,” Tyene says standing up and continuing on her way, leaving you to read Ariannes journal pages.

That night you can't sleep, you stroll through the garden admiring the flora, the colours are ones you'd never thought possible before.

“Running off,” a familiar voice asks and you turn to face the prince who was sitting on a stone bench a book placed precariously in his hands.

“Would you stop me if I was?” you query, returning on your path.

“No, though your dress indicates something else is the reason for your late night adventure,” he says standing up and walking slowly towards you.

“Insomnia, the plague of the guilty,” you state, taking a tiger lily in your hand admiring its markings “even in the summer the north fails to grow such things.”

“Even the plants know, the cold is no place to live,” Oberyn offers, book grasped tightly behind his back.

“Have you been?” you ask, removing your hand from the lily, eyes trailing up to the moon flowers that were glowing under the starlight.

“No,” he huffs, as if the question is preposterous.

“Then how would you know?” you respond smugly, eyes glancing up at him admiring his features as they relax into defeat before glancing down to you brow still furrowed, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “The trees are unlike anything you have ever seen, taller than buildings, older than the race of men. They’ll be here long after we crumble. Their red leaves against the white bark, the time of the old gods still etched into existence. Have you ever seen the snow my prince?” you query turning to face him.

“No, though i've heard the mountain peaks here can get it this time of year, but i've never been possessed to seek out the cold,” he admits, the colour of your eyes more prominent under the full moon, your poetic retelling almost enticing, or perhaps it was just the lips they fell from drawing him in.

“I miss it sometimes,” you confess, offering him a rare glimpse of softness he’d yet to see, “There's no feeling quite like that of being under furs with the one you love, the warmth of a fire as the cold breeze blows over you,” you continue, shaking your head at your ridiculous notions of tranquility.

“It is still warmth you crave then,” he says and you laugh.

“I suppose you're right,” you admit and he chuckles, enjoying your laugh, more melodic than he would have expected. Without your armour he could see the scars scattered across your body, not prominent but there. Evidence of a harder life than he’d expected from a person married to a would-be king.

“Are you not used to such ghastly sights my prince?” you query, his eyes widening at being caught admiring your form.

“I have seen scars before, and yours are hardly what one would qualify as ghastly ,especially considering the body they find themselves etched into existence on. I am merely curious as to their origin, each body tells a story after all,” he says following closely behind you.

“And what is my story” you ask, spinning around to face him.

“That your careless, ” he begins, watching as your eyes caution him “but only for those you are willing to risk your life for”

“Interesting,” you say, running your tongue along the cusps of your teeth, turning and walking on ahead, his eyes following you, feet doing the same.

“Am I right” he asked, more curious than ever. You shrug your shoulder annoying him slightly, not accustomed to your lack of openness.

“And your scars?” you question stopping to smell a lilac bush, he watches as the fabric dips low enough to reveal your chest.

“I have none, I am not careless,” he says, eyes on your newly exposed flesh, you snap your eyes to him “do not mistake my tone, you are a strong adversary, but you take unnecessary risks.” He states.

“Yet here I am,” you say standing up crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yet here you are,” he says, taking continuous steps to you until the space between you both is closed. He’s staring down at you, both hearts beating fast. You raise your gaze to meet his, momentarily lost in his eyes, forgetting your train of thought for a moment.

“I...I will help find your niece,” you sputter out, quickly turning your back to him.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says letting out a quick sigh at having missed an opportunity to envelop you in his arms and bring you back to his chambers.

“Goodnight prince Oberyn,” you say, not looking back as you begin the path back to your room, your head filled with his image despite your persistent attempts to expel him from your mind.

“Goodnight Lady Stark, or whoever you wish me to believe you to be,” he calls back, watching as you disappear from view.

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